A Jersey Girl in Kentucky

Tuesday, October 09, 2018

California
is so many things, but it’s hard to think about California without thinking of
earthquakes. The San Andreas Fault and its handiwork is plainly visible. Research has shown that the Southern segment,
which stretches from Monterey all the
way down to the Salton Sea, is capable of a Richter scale 8.1 earthquake. An
earthquake of that size on the Southern segment (which, at its closest, is 40
miles away from Los Angeles) would kill thousands of people in Los Angeles, San
Bernandino, Riverside, and other areas, and cause hundreds of billions of
dollars in property and economic damage.

Isn’t is
great to live in such a safe part of the country?

Maybe..……in
November 2008, The U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency warned that a
serious earthquake in the New Madrid Seismic Zone could result in "the
highest economic losses due to a natural disaster in the United States,"
further predicting "widespread and catastrophic" damage across
Alabama, Arkansas, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri,
Oklahoma, Texas, and particularly Tennessee, where a 7.7 magnitude quake or
greater would cause damage to tens of thousands of structures affecting water
distribution, transportation systems, and other vital infrastructure.[22] The
earthquake is expected to also result in many thousands of fatalities.

Maybe, we
all live on the edge, but Californians just can’t deny it.

As writer
Alice Gregory notes upon moving East:

In California, you know when you’re
burning. The brightness hurts, and when you close your eyes, you see red. The
cliffs are high and jagged, the ocean smashes the shoreline, and landslides
really can bring you down. There you are dwarfed and powerless. There are
earthquakes; and mudslides; and for about three months of the year, entire regions
of the state threaten to spontaneously combust. You wouldn’t dare sleep naked
in California—you might need to run outside in the middle of the night,
awakened to a rattling house and a mile-deep fissure in your front lawn.

We love to
watch the Olympics for many reasons, not the least of which is that moment of
suspense and the drama of the competitors’ expressions of joy or defeat.
Vicariously, we relive our own near-triumphs and empathize, or imagine the
glorious moment of victory and feel envy or admiration.I love the synchronized diving and the moment
the divers poise on the edge of the board. Every muscle of their bodies must be
perfectly attuned, and to my way of thinking there must be a spiritual as well
as a visual/mechanical connection in order for these dives to be so perfectly
harmonized, almost poetic.

But there,
as they pause on the edge, everything is potential: victory, defeat, even
danger, and yet they voluntarily do this over and over again! So, of course, do
we. (CIM)

Each day we
arise is a journey to the edge.

We have only
to acknowledge our own vulnerability to
understand how close we really come.

And I am not
just referring to our physical risk, although that is greater than we
acknowledge, given the way we hurtle down the freeways at enormous speeds,
live, eat, and move in ways that are contraindicated for longevity and comfort;
and all of the many toxic and violent threats of modern life. I am also
referring to what I am just going to call our own theological fault lines. Those potential rifts and separations that
we pretend not to observe, that we neglect at our own expense. You can only
live deceptively and selfishly for so long before it begins to consume you. You
can see these upheavals in peoples bodies and faces.

When our USA
men’s diving team was waiting to see whether they would win a Bronze medal or
no medal at all, their reactions were so different. The younger man (age 17)
was fraught with anxiety. The older of the two, who was actually more on the
edge in this case, since he is 34 and would not have another chance to ever win
a medal, was smiling. He looked okay to me. He stayed with the younger guy even
though he preferred to not watch the other results. I actually have no idea but
I would like to think he was at peace because he had done his best. If you
watched TV at all this week, you probably know, they did win the bronze medal.

Here is my
point.

Whether we
acknowledge it, live in denial, glimpse it from time to time, we are all living
on the edge. There is really so little separating us from huge loss and
disaster. (mention Colo, 4th anniversary of Knoxville, etc…) When we
know this, we have a choice. We canfiguratively grasp and compete and consume one another, acting as if
nothing but our own survival, winning, getting through,surviving , the“bottom line,” how things come out, and
fixing everything that is wrong is really what it’s all about. You may have
guessed by now that this is not what I would recommend theologically.

However, I
see people acting this way every day, as if the product were more important
than the person. Yes, even Unitarian Universalists. Sometimes, even myself.

But when I
meditate upon the edge, the fault line of my own existence, spend some time in
that land where we all live theologically, where no one finally survives, then
I know the answer is love, respect and decency for every human I encounter, and
I can return to other humans, regardless of how hungrily they may be licking
their chops, with kindness and regard.

C.S. Lewis talks with one of his
college students about

why we love if losing hurts so much, Lewis who lost his mother as a

child and his wife as an adult,
responds, “I have no answers anymore,

only the life I have lived. Twice in
that life...I've been given

the choice: As a boy... and as a man.
The boy chose safety. The man

chooses suffering. The pain now is
part of the happiness then. That's

the deal.”

Taking this
to a universal level we can look to Joanna Macy, Buddhist teacher and
eco-feminist. Macy states that feeling
that one

must always be hopeful can wear a
person out, but if we just show

up, and be present, do not pull down
the blinds, the possibilities

exist that the world will heal. She
believes there is a new paradigm

occurring that is known as “The Great
Turning.” The Great Turning

is a concept she helped coin and
define. Macy calls The Great

Turning “the essential adventure of
our time: the shift from the

industrial growth society to a
life-sustaining civilization.” She

says it is a time of transition from
a bankrupt political society,

which measures success by growth and
profit and is being replaced

by moral strength, courage and
creativity. The generations alive

today may not see a drastic change in
their lives or environment

but the choices we make for profit
today will effect the beings in

the next hundreds and thousands of
years and determine whether

they will be born of sound mind and
body.

So when we
feel ourselves in those places of fear and anxiety, let us turn toward one
another with love as the first principle, and we will find our way.

The shifting plates, the restive
earth, your room, your precious life, they all proceed from love, the ground on which we walk, together.

When my sons were adolescents, and devoted to skateboards and BMX bikes, we visited a skateboard shop called "Failure". I can only guess that the young adults owners' parents told them it would be a failure, or they would, so they embraced the name. I got a bumper sticker, and it lived on my Toyota Camry for about 400,000 miles. That was about 25 years ago, and I'm still learning to embrace the idea. It's one of the most valuable disciplines I can practice.

Seen in D.C.

Kavanope

Last week, as the Senate moved toward confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh in spite of numerous accusations of sexual assault and his own partisan display, not to mention his erratic and unseemly behavior, my family and I were in Washington, DC. Seth knew some things about the story, having heard the news, asked questions, and listened to our conversations. Had we not left on Thursday morning. I might have taken him to see the protests as the Supreme Court, which were starting to accelerate. I can't think of a better way for him to have understood democracy--what's left of it.

Mood.

I didn't believe from the beginning that the Democrats would succeed in keeping Kavanaugh off the bench. Even if, by some miracle, they had, Trump would have come up with another pick, just as far right, equally political, and the GOP would have been so angry and incensed that they may have fared worse in the midterm elections.

Furthermore, in spite of being a victim of sexual assault at a young age, I didn't share the outrage that I heard and saw from my (mostly white) women (mostly colleagues. In fact, it began to trouble me somewhat. Here's why:* To dwell too heavily upon this insult to our sensibilities in which, yes, once again, women have been been devalued, disbelieved, and discounted, to the point where it brings out more rage than many other things which have happened of late raises the question: Is this white privilege?* It's tone deaf. Knowing that these very assaults and insults have been the life story of women of color for generations, the alarm and horror, the outrage, of white women, must look almost comical to women across the globe. Imagine a woman who has endured systematic rape and abuse with no recourse watching a smart, well-off, successful white woman testify that someone almost raped her in high school. Yes, I know myself that this can cause lifetime trauma. I don't question her testimony or her distress. I question our response, as white women.

The People of Failure and Hope
Back to failure. My Buddhist practice and study has taught me that impermanence is the only sure thing. All human endeavor will fail. None of us will conquer death, illness, or loss. Acknowledging the inevitability of failure is a spiritual process and practice that is not easy, but can bring equanimity.

On our trip to D.C., we visited the new African American Museum of Culture and History. It is a celebration of triumph and a mourning of loss and horror. The history of Black people in the U.S. is one of suffering, and also one of triumph.

cafe at National Museum of African American History and Culture.

The next day, Seth asked to go to the Holocaust museum. He said he knew about the Holocaust, and the museum exhibits were presented in a way that was less alarming than I might have expected. But he had not known that disabled people were the first to be destroyed. Many exhibits emphasized this, so it was impossible to downplay. He knew this would have included him. We skipped quite a bit of the latter part, but at the end, we had a chance to talk with a Holocaust survivor. I explained to her that Seth had Autism, and she talked with him at length, telling him that people could be mean, be bullies, but there were kind and good people too, and we must always be kind. He listened intently, and after, he cried and hugged me.

Acceptance
I had so many dreams last week. I didn't recall all of the details, but I know they moved me forward. The failures and losses in my life have been so many of late that It has felt overwhelming. I've reached a point with all my siblings that to both be honest with them and continue a relationship seems impossible. I've had problems communicating with my grown children. I wrote years ago on this blog about how ministry is failure. The home our family has owned for 70 years is being sold in a manner that is duplicitous and hurtful. My chronic migraines have worsened in a way that has prevented me moving forward with writing and other projects. And, on this trip, we realized once again how limiting life with an Autistic child is. Seth really can't endure much in the way of travel, or sight-seeing, his interests are very narrow, and his anxiety is overpowering. All normal, but our expectations were far too high. Each of these things separately can be managed, but each is really beyond my control, and with the help of my dreams, the contemplation I had some time for, and some intervention from God, I came at last to a place I can be a peace with. I made decisions. I accepted finitude, loss, impermanence, and failure again.

Friday, September 28, 2018

1 This is what happened during the time of Xerxes,[a] the Xerxes who ruled over 127 provinces stretching from India to Cush[b]:2 At that time King Xerxes reigned from his royal throne in the citadel of Susa,3 and in the third year of his reign he gave a banquet for all his nobles and officials. The military leaders of Persia and Media, the princes, and the nobles of the provinces were present.

4 For a full 180 days he displayed the vast wealth of his kingdom and the splendor and glory of his majesty.5 When these days were over, the king gave a banquet, lasting seven days, in the enclosed garden of the king’s palace, for all the people from the least to the greatest who were in the citadel of Susa.6 The garden had hangings of white and blue linen, fastened with cords of white linen and purple material to silver rings on marble pillars. There were couches of gold and silver on a mosaic pavement of porphyry, marble, mother-of-pearl and other costly stones.7 Wine was served in goblets of gold, each one different from the other, and the royal wine was abundant, in keeping with the king’s liberality.8 By the king’s command each guest was allowed to drink with no restrictions, for the king instructed all the wine stewards to serve each man what he wished.

9 Queen Vashti also gave a banquet for the women in the royal palace of King Xerxes.

10 On the seventh day, when King Xerxes was in high spirits from wine,he commanded the seven eunuchs who served him—Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, Abagtha, Zethar and Karkas—11 to bring before him Queen Vashti, wearing her royal crown, in order to display her beauty to the people and nobles, for she was lovely to look at.12 But when the attendants delivered the king’s command, Queen Vashti refused to come. Then the king became furious and burned with anger.

13 Since it was customary for the king to consult experts in matters of law and justice, he spoke with the wise men who understood the times14 and were closest to the king—Karshena, Shethar, Admatha, Tarshish, Meres, Marsena and Memukan, the seven nobles of Persia and Media who had special access to the king and were highest in the kingdom.

15 “According to law, what must be done to Queen Vashti?” he asked. “She has not obeyed the command of King Xerxes that the eunuchs have taken to her.”

16 Then Memukan replied in the presence of the king and the nobles, “Queen Vashti has done wrong, not only against the king but also against all the nobles and the peoples of all the provinces of King Xerxes.17 For the queen’s conduct will become known to all the women, and so they will despise their husbands and say, ‘King Xerxes commanded Queen Vashti to be brought before him, but she would not come.’18 This very day the Persian and Median women of the nobility who have heard about the queen’s conduct will respond to all the king’s nobles in the same way. There will be no end of disrespect and discord.

19 “Therefore, if it pleases the king, let him issue a royal decree and let it be written in the laws of Persia and Media, which cannot be repealed,that Vashti is never again to enter the presence of King Xerxes. Also let the king give her royal position to someone else who is better than she.20 Then when the king’s edict is proclaimed throughout all his vast realm, all the women will respect their husbands, from the least to the greatest.”

21 The king and his nobles were pleased with this advice, so the king did as Memukan proposed.22 He sent dispatches to all parts of the kingdom, to each province in its own script and to each people in their own language, proclaiming that every man should be ruler over his own household, using his native tongue.

Usually, the part of the Book of Esther that gets the most attention, by scholars of the Hebrew or First testament, is the story of Purim, and Esther's heroic actions. Many people have never heard of Vashti. Banished when she defied her husband who ordered her to dance before his friends wearing (nothing but) her crown, she is an early example of feminine self-determination in the Scriptures.

This week, the real horror has not been the high school assault made by a 17-year old Brett Kavanaugh. The horror has been the continued assault on social media, in the hearing room, and on TV, on women who dare question the status quo. Who speak up to the culture of rape and violence so clearly elucidated in Kavanaugh's yearbook. (which he lied about)

I have a cat named Vashti. I would probably have a daughter with the name if I'd had one after I studied this text. For women, the decision not to obey the patriarchy, whatever form it takes in your life, is monumental. The refusal to dance. The absolute refusal to be judged by others' standards. The courage of self-determination.

And make no mistake. It is not only men who enforce the patriarchy. Women can be the willing emissaries of its rules and restrictions. This has certainly been true in my life. We saw it played out in yesterday's Senate hearing as Rachel Mitchell grilled Dr. Ford in lieu of the white male Senators, with a smile on her matronly face.

My cat Vashti is an indoor cat. She hasn't faced coyotes, hawks, owls, foxes, and the many other predators on our farm. But she's been through four dogs, all much larger than she. All have ultimately backed down from her claws and her snarls. Most have taken some real wallops on the nose to get the message. Nevertheless, she persisted. She's about 13 now, and slowing down. But she's lived up to her name.

I was so excited when I learned that Vashti McCollum was elected the first female Bishop of the AME Church! She lived up to her auspicious name as well.

This is 2018. No human being is entitled to bully, berate, intimidate, demean, or diminish another because they are bigger, richer, whiter, or happen to be male. Or because they give the most money to the church, or they are an adult.

But this is something women need to do themselves, and with one another. I love the idea of her banquet. Let's have those! Support and empowerment. Not whining and blaming.

Be Vashtis.

more on the Hebrew Scriptures:

From the New York Jewish Times:

Vashti is attacked by commentators on the Megillah. The Talmud explains that she was the great-granddaughter of Nebuchadnezzar, a Babylonian king who conquered most of the known world and exiled the Jews from Israel for 70 years. (The Purim story takes places during that exile.) Nebuchadnezzar’s grandson, Belshazzar, was king while the Persians destroyed Babylon. When the Persians ransacked the castle, they found Belshazzar’s toddler daughter, Vashti. Cyrus, the king of Persia at the time, decided to marry her to his son Ahasuerus. He thought the Persian monarchy would benefit from her prestigious pedigree.

There are still many Vashtis today, women who are punished because they say no, women who are stuck in abusive relationships. It is imperative that we learn from the Megillah and work to change the culture we live in today.

Support friends who are survivors of rape and domestic violence. Counter rape myths when you hear them. Patronize charities and organizations that help women escape domestic abuse, such as Shalom Bayit, the Shalom Task Force and Stop the Violence. Ensure that women have the courage to say no like Vashti did, but make certain that they will not suffer her end.

Your name reveals the essence of your soul, according to Jewish teaching. In Persian, the name Vashti means goodness. A commentary explains that Vashti comes from the Hebrew word “shtei” meaning two. While Esther is considered the only hero of the Purim story perhaps Vashti can now be counted as the second.